Red Simpson Highway man (Highwayman) Lyrics:
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty
trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon
cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight,
over the purple moor, And the highwayman came
riding- riding-riding- The highwayman came riding,
up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch
of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet,
and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with
never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol
butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under
the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the
dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the
shutters, but all was locked and barred; He
whistled a tune to the window, and who should be
waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed
daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting
a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket
creaked Where Tim the ostler listened; his face
was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of
madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved
the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped
daughter, Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard
the robber say-

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize
to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold
before the morning light; Yet, if they press me
sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look
for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should
bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could
reach her hand, But she loosened her hair i' the
casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black
cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh,
sweet black waves in the moonlight!) Then he
tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped
away to the West.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at
noon; And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise
o' the moon, When the road was a gipsy's ribbon,
looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came
marching- Marching-marching- King George's men
came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his
ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and
bound her to the foot of her narrow bed; Two of
them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their
side! There was death at every window; And hell at
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one dark window; For Bess could see, through the
casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a
sniggering jest; They bound a musket beside her,
with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now keep good
watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead
man say- Look for me by moonlight; Watch for me by
moonlight; I'll come to thee by moonlight, though
hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the
knots held good! She writhed her hands till here
fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They
stretched and strained in the darkness, and the
hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the
stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of
midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The
trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no
more for the rest! Up, she stood up to attention,
with the barrel beneath her breast, She would not
risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and
bare in the moonlight; And the blood of her veins
in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The
horse-hoofs ringing clear; Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot,
in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not
hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow
of the hill, The highwayman came riding, riding,
riding! The red-coats looked to their priming! She
stood up strait and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in
the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her
face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a
moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her
finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket
shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in
the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know
who stood Bowed, With her head o'er the musket,
drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn
he heard it, his face grew grey to hear How Bess,
the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed
daughter, Had watched for her love in the
moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back,he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse
to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him
and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his
spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet
coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down
like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood
on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his
throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the
wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly
galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is
a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A
highwayman comes riding- riding-riding- A
highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the
dark inn-yard, And he taps with his whip on the
shutters, but all is locked and barred; He
whistles a tune to the window, and who should be
waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed
daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting
a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Lyrics: Highway man (Highwayman), Red Simpson [end]